“It’s a statement of fact.”
Wicks moved his hand and pulled his pistol instead, holding it on Nomad. He jerked it to the side, in a leading motion. “Let’s move, asshole.”
“What about the fuel, boss?” Watson asked, pointing at the barrels stacked along the wall to the left. They were sitting next to a stack of items that included a pick, shovel, five-gallon fuel cans, and a two-wheeled hand truck.
Wicks never looked at Watson or the drums before he replied. “No more room. We’ll come back later, after we deliver this load.”
Watson pinched his eyes after holding for a beat. “Might be able to squeeze them in, if a couple of us stay behind.”
“No, we ride as a unit. The fuel can wait till we return. It’s not going anywhere.”
“Copy that, boss.”
“Secure him,” Wicks told Watson.
Watson nodded, then used leftover paracord to secure Nomad’s hands behind his back, using a triple wrap technique.
When Watson was finished, Wicks motioned with his gun for Nomad to turn and walk.
Nomad did as he was told, leading them up a flight of steps made of stone. He kept his movements slow and steady, not wanting to give Wicks any reason to shoot.
“What were you planning to do with all the explosives you were stockpiling?” Wicks asked Nomad.
“Stockpiling, hence the name.”
Wicks hit the back of the Nomad’s head with something solid, making the Nomad wince in pain.
“Don’t get smart with me, boy. Just answer the fucking question.”
“That’s what I was doing. Answering.”
“You had a reason, so out with it.”
“Frost’s men were planning an attack, so I collected what was needed, then deployed what was needed. This is the balance that remains.”
“Okay, we get that,” Watson said. “But besides trading for medical, why would you give us all this stuff? Why not keep some in reserve? We would’ve never known if it weren’t all in one place.”
“What remains is no longer needed,” Nomad answered, holding back the words he wanted to say, which were who says this is the only stockpile?
“So you just give it up, just like that?”
“The threat has been neutralized.”
“What kind of threat, exactly?” Wicks asked.
“An armed incursion.”
“Here?”
“No. Elsewhere.”
“Trading Post?” Watson asked.
Wicks didn’t let Nomad answer, speaking up first. “No, he means the silo, don’t you?”
Nomad couldn’t deny it. They needed to know. Not so much for them, but for the people they protected. People who deserved far better than these two cretins, even if one of them was a former cook. “Yes and no.”
Wicks hit Nomad across the back of the head again. “Don’t get cute, dickhead. The truth, remember.”
“Yes, a silo. No, it’s not your silo.”
“There’s more than one?” Watson asked.
Nomad thought about filtering the answer, but decided against it. “There are sixteen, actually. Most of which were filled with cement when they were decommissioned by the Air Force.”
“Sixteen? Holy shit, boss,” Watson said to Wicks. “Do you think Edison knew?”
“Oh yeah. The professor knew. He knew everything.”
“Except who Craven really is,” Nomad added. “And who he’s working with and why.”
“How many are still viable?” Wicks asked. “Silos, that is.”
“A handful.”
“So that means Frost’s men attacked one of them?”
“Yes. Hence, the threat has been neutralized statement.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“He blew them up, boss,” Watson said. “That’s what all the explosives were for.”
Nomad continued, pushing his feet ahead in the cave. “Can’t allow innocent civilians to be slaughtered.”
“There were people in the other silo?” Watson asked.
“No, I was referring to your civilians,” Nomad said, pausing for effect. “A redirect was needed.”
“Oh shit. You sent Frost’s men to the wrong silo,” Watson said, his tone three octaves above what it just had been.
“Yes.”
Watson laughed. “Damn, I would have liked to have seen the looks on their faces when that happened.”
“That means you’ve known the location of our facility for a while, in order to prepare,” Wicks said.
“Correct.”
“How?”
“Does that really matter now?”
“It does to me. And to my boss, who is going to want answers, too,” Wicks said. “How, asshole?”
“Your scavenger missions.”
“You mean our Seeker Missions,” Wicks said.
“It wasn’t hard to track their return. You might want to rethink your deployment protocols.”
“Shit, we have to let Krista know about all of this,” Watson said.
“No, what we need to do is end the threat right here. Right now. We have what we want.”
When those words landed on Nomad’s ears, he knew what he had to do.
CHAPTER 20
Nomad ran the options through his head, thinking about the terrain ahead. He’d walked this same route countless times before, but never under guard with his hands tied behind his back.
At least the light from Watson’s flashlight allowed him to see one of the tougher spots a few yards ahead and to the left—The Hedge. It wouldn’t have taken much to stumble into it and disappear over the edge and into the abyss below.
“On second thought, Watson, I think it might be time to head back and get the shovel and pick I saw in the corner by the crates. Our friend has some digging to do,” Wicks said.
Nomad stopped his feet but didn’t turn around.
“Looks like someone is not as stupid as I thought,” Wicks said.
Nomad turned to face Wicks, but used a subtle reverse walk in order to position himself against the cave wall, his hands coming to rest on the edge of a protruding rock.
Watson’s hand began to tremble, making the flashlight dance in an up-and-down pattern.
Wicks raised the gun. “You know, I could just shoot you where you stand. Save a lot of time.”
Nomad held his shoulders still as he moved his hands left and right in a tight pattern, angling his wrists so the paracord would scrape against the rock behind him. “Yeah, but what fun would that be? Come on, Wicks, use the knife. You know you want to stick it in me and twist it around. See what’s going on in there. Man-to-man.”
Wicks nodded, albeit slowly. “Ask and you shall receive.”
“Boss?” Watson asked.
“No matter what happens, hold your position.”
“But sir?”
Wicks gave his pistol to Watson. “That’s an order. This asshole is all mine.”
Nomad had hoped Wicks would stow the gun back in its holster. It would have made things a lot easier.
A change in plan was needed, Nomad decided, continuing to rub the paracord on the rock, increasing the pressure and speed as Wicks took out his knife, pulling it free from its sheath in a slow, drawn-out manner.
Wicks took a methodical step forward, his eyes energized with more fire than before. He twisted the blade in his hand, opening his fingers and closing them, making a leathery, squeaking sound across the grip. “I’m going to bleed you slow, boy.”
Nomad kept his chin firm and eyes forward, tracking the man’s distance and speed. “Do what you gotta do.”
“And here I thought you were some kind of hero. But you’re just another asshole with a death wish. Fine, I’ll be your huckleberry.”
Nomad steadied himself, figuring Wicks would take the shortest route to a kill, despite his promise to bleed him slow. He knew his timing would have to be perfect; otherwise, the glistening blade would find its way inside.
Wic
ks lunged with the knife, aiming for Nomad’s torso.
Nomad took a quick step to the side, turning his body in a flash so the blade would miss, then brought his hands out from behind his back, having just freed them with the cutting motion along the rock.
Wicks’ eyes flared as Nomad brought his arm up and around before chopping down on Wicks’ wrist to make sure the blade didn’t get redirected.
Nomad followed that motion with a stiff jab of his other arm, using his elbow as the blunt instrument. The blow landed on Wicks’ chest, making a thumping sound.
Wicks gasped, then took an awkward step back, his face indicating he’d been taken by surprise.
Nomad whirled and took a step forward, landing another sharp blow on Wicks’ throat. He missed the man’s Adam’s apple, but the impact stunned the giant regardless.
More gasping came from Wicks as he bent over for air, his legs not maintaining his balance. When he leaned against the wall, Nomad circled around and flew into the air, feet first, clamping his legs around Wicks’ back, just above the waist.
When Nomad’s weight took over, the force brought Wicks away from the wall in a tumbling spin to the ground.
Nomad felt the man’s body flatten into the dirt with a sudden thud as Nomad rolled with him, ending up on top as he’d planned, his knee pressing into Wicks’ chest.
Wicks tried to bring the blade around, but there wasn’t enough room, allowing Nomad to latch onto his wrist with both hands.
Nomad bent the man’s thumb back, leveraging all his weight to force it free from the handle, then twisted his hands to liberate the knife from Wicks.
Wicks groaned as Nomad spun the knife around in his fingers, like a drummer on stage at a rock concert, then pounded Wicks’ nose with the flat end of the handle in three rapid-fire blows. The third whack brought blood to the man’s nose, sending it dripping out of his nostrils.
Nomad spun the blade around once again, this time bringing the tip down to the center of Wicks’ throat, pressing against the skin but stopping just short of penetration.
Wicks froze with his arms out in a surrender position as Nomad leaned in, bringing his eyes down to Wicks in a dead-man stare.
“Is this what you’ve been drooling for, Wicks?”
Wicks kept his arms still. “Easy now.”
“No, you’re not getting off that easy,” Nomad said with his most intense voice. He withdrew the knife and shot off the man, taking three steps back.
Wicks turned onto his side and ran his hand across his face, taking some of the blood with it. He got to his feet and turned to face Nomad, his nose beginning to swell. Wicks aimed his eyes at the knife in Nomad’s hand. “So much for a fair fight, huh?”
Nomad paused for a moment, then decided to toss the knife over the rock ledge known as The Hedge. The weapon bounced off the far wall and disappeared into the cavern below.
He then put his right arm out with his palm up and gave Wicks a come-hither finger motion like he’d seen done in countless action movies back in the day.
“Gladly,” Wicks said, shooting a look at Watson, who was still flatfooted and watching the fight from a distance.
“Then bring it,” Nomad said, kicking a rock the size of a softball away from his feet.
Wicks charged, this time letting out an ear-piercing, deep-toned yell as his legs drove his feet through the dirt. He brought his arm up and around, unleashing a full roundhouse punch.
Nomad ducked the man’s fist and spun sideways as Wicks’ momentum took him forward and out of control, obviously expecting some form of resistance from his punch hitting the mark.
While Wicks fought the momentum, Nomad brought his arm up and grabbed Wicks’ wrist, then shoved it high over his head before turning the man’s hand upside down.
Wicks caved in, as expected, to stop the pain, allowing Nomad to use his strength to leverage the man’s arm down, flipping Wicks onto his back like a Karate master.
Yet Nomad didn’t stop there, bringing his free elbow around in a whirl of his body, letting his weight drop while landing a powerful blow on Wicks’ jaw.
The impact stung Nomad’s arm, but his adrenaline wouldn’t let the pain inside. Nomad could have landed more blows, but he wanted to extend the fight, rolling off the man once again. He backed up and took a fixed stance several yards away.
Wicks got up, flexing his jaw with blood running from his nose. Instead of charging again, Wicks circled around, keeping an even distance between them with his hands out and biceps curled.
Nomad needed the man to keep attacking in order to use his skills against the goliath. However, it appeared Wicks was learning and adjusting on the fly.
That’s when Nomad spotted the rock he’d kicked away from his feet earlier. He brought his shoulders forward and spun himself into a somersault, rolling toward the stone.
When his eyes came around, he caught sight of the rock, allowing him to grab onto it and zip a fastball at Wicks’ face.
His aim was right on target, smacking into the man’s forehead with a whack, tearing open his skin in a deep gash just above the bridge of his nose.
More blood shot out as Wicks stumbled backwards, the redness leaking down and into his eyes.
While Wicks rubbed the blood free from his vision, Nomad charged him, leaping feet first again, only this time planning to wrap his legs around Wicks’ neck in a vise grip. Only Nomad’s angle wasn’t straight on like before, not after Wicks took an unexpected step to the left.
Nomad’s legs wrapped around the man’s neck a bit off-center, meaning his forward momentum sent his body swinging around Wicks, taking them both into a wild, off-balance spin.
Halfway through the revolution, Nomad had no choice but to let go of his leglock, fearing he might end up on the bottom of this attack and lose his advantage.
After Nomad hit the deck and looked up, he saw Wicks flying out of control, back first. There was a stalagmite in his path, up about waist high, its tip pointing straight. It rammed into the base of the Wick’s spine, making him cry out and gasp. He rolled through the impact and smashed into the dirt, grabbing at his back in obvious pain.
The tip of the rock formation had broken off and was now lying on the ground. Nomad worried that Wicks might grab the jagged piece and use it as a weapon.
Nomad scurried to Wicks and stood over him, pulling his arm back and unleashing a torrent of jabs, one after another, pummeling Wicks’ face. Bam. Bam. Bam.
“That’s enough,” Watson yelled.
Nomad stopped his barrage and backed away from Wicks, turning his attention to Watson, who was still holding the pistol, though it looked as though he was about to drop it, the grip hanging loose in his fingers.
Wicks gurgled through some blood, then sat up and shot a look at Watson. “You stay out of this or so help me God, I’ll kill you next.”
“I’m waiting,” Nomad said to Wicks.
Wicks pushed himself to his knees, then crawled forward on wobbly arms and legs. He craned his neck and looked up at Nomad from all fours, showing a face that was cut and swollen in several spots. Plus there was a massive smear of blood seemingly everywhere, but it didn’t appear the man was going to call it quits.
Nomad could have taken a single step forward and blasted a kick at the man’s face, but decided not to. That would have been too easy and probably would have knocked the man out. This beating needed to continue as payback for all the sins the man had committed in his life.
Wicks finally got to his feet, his knees looking as though they could barely hold up his massive frame. He brought his fists up in a boxer’s pose, but the sheer amount of blood leaking into his eyes from his forehead wound made him squint, obviously having trouble locating his adversary.
Wicks staggered forward, his body seemingly running in slow motion as he sent a sloppy punch at Nomad.
Nomad leaned to the left, dodging the blow without much effort.
As Wicks followed through with the miss, Nomad brought his hand a
round and bitch-slapped the giant with a strong backhand, twisting the man’s head to the side.
Nomad stepped back, letting Wicks regain his balance. “Is that all you got?”
“Fuck you. I’m gonna kill you, asshole,” Wicks said, his speech slurred.
Wicks lunged at Nomad again, this time not sending a punch or kick. Instead, he charged with his hands out, like a sumo wrestler, wrapping his arms around Nomad’s waist.
The soldier’s weight drove Nomad back in a fast step, pushing him hard into a wall standing firm a good ten feet away.
The rock crashed into Nomad’s back, bringing with it the first real pain he’d felt since this fight started.
It stung, but Nomad pushed through it and brought both of his arms up and slammed them down into his attacker’s back. He hit Wicks again and again with the same downward chopping motion with his fists, pounding at the man until Wicks finally let go.
The two broke apart in a stumble, each man taking in rapid bursts of air. They started to circle each other with arms out and chests pumped, their eyes full of fury.
“Is that all you got?” Wicks said across the space between them. “I’ve fought bitches with more than that.”
Nomad needed to be careful. Wicks looked as though he was enjoying the pain and was gaining confidence, despite all the blows and all the blood. Nomad knew that some adversaries got stronger as the fight continued, their will to win outweighing the damage that had been done.
“I got you now,” Wicks said.
“Go for it, bitch.”
“I’m gonna break you in half and shit down your neck.”
Wicks came at Nomad for another powerful bear hug, his feet pushing his speed to an even higher level.
This time, Nomad was ready, dropping and skidding forward in a sliding motion. When his body was underneath the man’s groin, Nomad balled both fists and pounded up, landing a series of lightning-fast strikes to the groin of his combatant.
Nomad rolled out of the way as Wicks toppled over, holding his balls with both hands and letting out a guttural moan.
“What was that about breaking me in half?” Nomad snarked, watching the pain course through the behemoth’s body.
Silo Page 10